Wounded Inked Boxed Set

By Sky McCoy

Tony:

"How can I explain this? There's really no explanation for the way I feel. It's beyond me. Maybe it happened on my last tour of duty, where I'd been wounded in the leg, spent months in the VA hospital with nothing but therapy, and reading love letters to past the time, or to keep me sane.
The letters weren't from my wife, but an admirer. I hadn't heard from my wife in months. I think her last note informed me that she'd moved on, taking our dog with her, and filed for a divorce. I guess she couldn't handle a damaged man without a job, with little or no income, and coming home.
Now it's time for me to accept that I'm a broken man. I've lost my identity because I was a soldier, a leader of men, and all I have now are these few love letters from a strange woman to give me comfort.
Can this woman be as broken as I am? What will it take to make me whole—two broken pieces coming together?"

What will happen when Tony falls in love because of a few letters, texts, and Emails only to discover that the person behind the letters isn't who he imagined?
The "Wounded Inked" 3 book series contain hurt/ comfort, straight to gay, and fake boyfriend with HFN, and HEA in the final book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sky McCoy
• Release date: May 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005684587

Sky McCoy

Hi, my name is Sky McCoy and I write gay M/M romantic fiction. My books are steamy, erotic, romantic, with lots of angst and drama men may face if they are in love. I write about love between men because I believe in the "Freedom to Love." If you are gay or straight, you may enjoy reading my books because "Love is Love."

Book preview

Contact me at [e-mail]  if you want to chat or review my books. You can sign up for my newsletter to get advanced information for free books. And check out my website for upcoming books.

To keep up with Sky McCoy’s books published, visit my website. And please leave a review so I can keep bringing you books you enjoy reading. 

Edited by Ann Attwood

Cover Art by Cover-inked

Copyright

Copyright © 2021 by Sky McCoy

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No reproduction of this book in part or whole is permitted. This book should not be scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the author’s permission.

Tony:

"How can I explain this? There’s really no explanation for the way I feel. It’s beyond me. Maybe it happened on my last tour of duty, where I was wounded in the leg, spent months in the VA hospital with nothing but therapy, and reading love letters to pass the time, or to keep me sane.

The letters weren’t from my wife, but an admirer. I hadn’t heard from my wife in months. I think her last note informed me that she’d moved on, taking our dog with her, and was filing for a divorce. I guess she couldn’t handle a damaged man without a job, with little or no income, and coming home.   

Now it was time for me to accept that I was a broken man. I’d lost my identity, because I was a soldier, a leader of men, and all I had now were these few love letters from a strange woman to give me comfort.

Could this woman be as broken as I was? What would it take to make me whole—two broken pieces coming together?"

What would happen when Tony fell in love, because of a few letters, texts, and emails, only to discover that the person behind the letters wasn't who he imagined?    

The Wounded Inked 3 book series contain hurt/ comfort, straight to gay, and fake boyfriend with HFN, and HEA in the final book. 

Prologue

Tony

I’d just received a letter I had been anxiously waiting for. Just when I’d given up and I knew I had to get some sleep, because of the mission in front of me, and because my men needed me more tomorrow than ever before, I got this ray of hope through the letter I held doggedly in my hand. I wanted to take the time to sit and read it, savor every word, every phrase, and every time Sergeant appeared on the paper.

My men called me Sergeant, but it meant something different to them. I was their leader, I was their mentor, I was the one who would teach them and bring them home.

We were marines and we left no one on the battlefield, no one behind, and especially not our hearts, because our hearts were with the ones we loved. My heart had been shattered early on when I received what they called a Dear John letter. With every letter coming through the mail, from a special unknown woman, my heart began to come together.

I needed a clear head more now than I’d ever needed one before, because this would be my last mission. 

My squad had to travel into this town, relieve another squad of marines, and I wouldn’t be able to receive mail or my care package, therefore, receiving this letter now meant so much to me. After I read it, I placed it next to my heart, because it would be the final one for a month or more. 

The first words of that letter caught my eyes and I turned, looking to the side as if I was a squirrel hiding a precious acorn that would last until winter when I’d need something to sustain me. That something was this letter I held tightly, keeping the wind and the sand, or the helicopters bringing in supplies from dislodging it from my fist.

Lights strung everywhere provided what I needed to see the words scrawled carefully on

the paper. Repeating the words with a smile, I murmured to myself as I read, I’ll give you a kiss. It’s my secret to you, because if you were here beside me, my lips would whisper in your ear, I love you. 

Holy fuck! Did she just write that? My cock twitched and I moaned, looking around to see if anyone had heard me. With all the noise, how could they? I rationalized. Fuck me, but my cock hadn’t responded to anything in months. Let alone words on a paper.

There was no way I could feel something for somebody I’ve never met. I didn’t understand what could be going on with me. Maybe I’ve been out here too long, and I’ll feel different once I get home.

That’s it, I murmured into the air looking around to see if I’d been caught talking to myself. When I glanced behind me to see a platoon working at unloading food supplies and water, I strolled over to get some privacy. Good luck with that, I thought. 

Instead I walked, I held the letter against my Cammie, my combat uniform, near my covered beating chest. What the fuck? What do I do now? I wondered, looking out into the mountains of sand.

These letters had progressed from friendly chats to I love you? It’s not that I don’t enjoy hearing those words, but what’s brought that on?

Maybe the person at the end of those letter was getting as deeply involved as I was just by communicating like this. I tried to stop the letters by not writing or sending an email. However, this was what I needed to rescue me from my lonely broken existence.

My only bright spot before was the men in my squad. To say I lived for those letters was an understatement. With the first letter I received, I didn’t know what to think. Maybe they had the wrong Anthony Paesano, however, when I continued receiving more, and with each successive letter I was reeled in, and like a child waiting for candy, if I didn’t get my sugar fix I’d become downhearted, dispirited, but thank God for my men.

Nevertheless, those letters came in like clockwork and became my life. Through the letters I could live outside of this hellish place, dream, and forget that I no longer had a wife to go home to. 

I’d given up expecting any calls from Serina, or an email, or text, and I knew what that meant, but I didn’t want to face it. Facing that my marriage was over, the fear of what I’d do now would be like being afraid that I wouldn’t make it out of here. I couldn’t entertain that idea, because that would show in my expressions, and my men would pick up on that right away. It wouldn’t be good for my men or me. 

Sergeant, you got one of those hot letters from your pen pal? They knew, because no one operated in a vacuum out here. 

Holly had become more of a pen pal to me, and now the men were aware that when I got her letters my tone and disposition were different when we weren’t on the battlefield. I should have written her back, but I never did. The way I was feeling before, it was as if I was cheating on my wife. Now that was a joke. Me cheating on her, when in reality she was cheating on me.

The last time I was home, my brother Lucas said that he saw my wife out dancing and drinking with a guy we knew from high school. I dismissed it, because what the hell was I to do? I’d been away for so long and I didn’t want to ruin my homecoming arguing about her doing something so minor as dancing or taking a drink. I didn’t listen, because I didn’t have any control out here. You couldn’t control anything when you were as far as I was from Serina, so what the fuck did it do for me to get myself upset over little things. You had to trust that you’d done your best, and then to hell with the rest. 

It was like when you fell out of love with someone. When you had a broken egg and you couldn’t put it back together. You had to get rid of it, or it would stink up everything.

Yeah, Sergeant. You promised on our last mission that you’d read the letters to us, a private chimed in, and took me out of my thoughts. Did I want to share these special moments with my men now that I couldn’t bear to part with the words on the paper?

I’ll let you read the text next time. 

We don’t want to read a text. Fuck a text. The private, knowing that he’d overstepped his bounds, looked around to the men for affirmation which he got. Anyone can send a text, but you have to be a certain type to write and send a love letter.

Sergeant never said it was a love letter. It’s just a letter from a friend. Love letters are written by— 

Yeah, we know. You have to be gay, or a woman to write those kinds of letters. It’s just someone who is lonely and needs a friend, private first class Lopez added, looking around for affirmation. And the men broke into a loud roar.

None of that. Some of our best soldiers are gay. I had to warn them. You never know who will have your back when you need them. I may have used the wrong word, because I saw the men trading glances and others raising eyebrows. Since this is the only entertainment we have tonight before we go on our mission, I don’t think Holly would mind if I read you her letter.

My men sat around me, all of them in their early twenties, and a few eighteen. They waited for me to pull out the letter which I’d tucked inside my jacket.

My dear Sergeant,

I’ll give you a kiss. It’s my secret to you, because if you were here beside me, my lips would whisper in your ear, I love you.

I refused to read the part where she said she loved me, because somehow that had been more intimate then all the letters before this one. I continued reading out loud.  

I hope I’m not bothering you by writing so often. I know I should wait until you write me, but I miss you so much even though I know I’ve never seen you, and you’ve never seen me. If you were to look into my eyes, and if I got the privilege of peeking into yours, I’d know your soul, because that’s where the soul lives, in our eyes.

My eyes are green, Sergeant, what color are yours? Send me a picture of you when you get a chance. I haven’t sent one of me, because I know you’re married, and I don’t want to confuse you or distract you, but I’d like to say that I would want to meet you one day if only to be friends, and have a drink. Maybe go out dancing. Perhaps then we would know if our pulse beats from our hearts, then maybe our eyes would tell if we could only be friends, or something much more."

Your dear friend for now,  

Holly 

The men in my squad sat back, and said in unison, Woah. And then a long silence crept in, but whistles and cat calls eventually filled the night. I stood, Get some sleep men. This may not be a dangerous mission, but you damn sure have to keep your guard up, one misstep could be our last.

The realization that one wrong move and I might not make it home became more worrisome to me now more than ever, because of those damn wonderful letters. I knew I had to clear my head and forget the letter and the woman behind it, and carry on for the sake of my men. They needed me and depended on me to get them through this final mission, and there was no way I could let them down. 

I had to remember my own words, because now I had a reason to make it back home.

I’d been in a fog with all that had happened between me and Serina. However, now that fog had lifted, and the one person who raised my hopes for the future had written me this perfect letter, and God help me, I wanted to know her better. All I knew about her was she lived in Tucson, had green eyes, her name was Holly, and she could write a letter that made my heart soar and my mind take notice.

Holly had brought me from my lowest point to my highest where I wanted to live long enough to give her an intimate message which couldn’t be delivered by text, email, or a letter, but with a kiss. 

Chapter 1

Parker 

Ireally wasn’t into that Daddy stuff, but it appeared that all I ever ran across were men who were older than me, who wanted to either spank my ass, or they needed a Daddy themselves where I’d spank them, or tell them what to do, and how to live.

I had problems figuring out how to live myself, so what the fuck could I tell a man in his forties who had probably seen more cocks than I had, fondled more balls than I cared to, and been around the world more times than I could count right here in this room. 

Now I knew that wasn’t what some thought that living was all about, but for a young gay man in his twenties, that was all some of us lived for was to find that right cock, and at the beginning and ending of that cock would be our life partner.

Maybe I hadn’t lived enough and met the right person, but then I’d traveled to other countries, stayed drunk night and day fucking a willing ass, gone on adventures in Pamplona, Spain, where I ran with the bulls. Got jerked off in the stands watching a bullfight in Madrid, and had an orgasm when the bull tore into the ass of a handsome bullfighter wearing a suit of lights and waving a cape.

After that memorable time of doing nothing but getting drunk and fucking my life away literally and physically, I arrived home in Phoenix to be confronted by my father. What a fucking bummer. I’d gotten tired of my father barking orders at me, controlling my every move. That was when I knew then I didn’t want, or need a Daddy.

I couldn’t stand for anyone to tell me anything, and maybe that was being stupid, arrogant, or narcissistic, but I was sheltered, and it was all my parents’ fault. They waited until I was twenty-four to start ordering me around.

I’d been on a quest to find myself since I was fifteen and perhaps I’d stepped over a line, and my father had to intervene at this late stage in my life. You’d think he would have done something earlier, but no, he was the understanding and doting father until I took it too far, and then he stood over me one morning just as I was waking up, and having my morning jack off. 

I want you out of here. I’d awakened to growling and a sour expression, turned over, and placed my pillow over my head. I thought if I ignored him, he’d leave like before. Big mistake. There he was standing over my bed with my cock wrapped tightly in my fist with me snuggled under the covers, having this wonderful dream about fucking this handsome dude in Venice.

With the pillow over my head, I didn’t hear every curse word he’d hurled at me disturbing my wonderful daydream. However, I could imagine what he’d said. It was the same lately. What the fuck are you going to do, Parker? Lie there and play with yourself. 

I rolled over, wiped my eyes, cupped my breath to smell the alcohol from the night before, and glanced up at him. When my bloodshot eyes locked with his, I could swear he had daggers in them. What’s the matter? I questioned, ready to make a run to the restroom when he pushed me back, and I fell against the mattress. Each time he was like this, there was no getting away from him. 

Parker. What do you mean what’s the matter? Look around you. You have pizza boxes everywhere, beer bottles, and your jockstrap stinking up the house.

But, dad—

Don’t but dad me. Your mother has indulged you in every possible way, and you’ve turned into a spoiled, self-indulgent, narcissistic gay man. At least he didn’t call me the F word and that said a lot about his character for now, but the day was still young. 

I had to give it to my parents. It took character to raise a gay teen and not be ashamed when I’d walk around with purple hair, rings in my nose and ears, tattoos, and piercings where only a few were privy to see. I guess I did wear my tight black designer jeans and tees just to piss him off.

Nevertheless, I think I might have pushed my dad too far, because I’d never seen his eyes shine the way they were now. Fathers with gay sons had to endure a lot from friends and family, and my father was the best, but something drove him over the edge, and I think it was the twenty-four-year-old me. Yes, I took responsibility for that.

At least, I never tried to kill myself when I was a teen just to announce that I was gay. Now that would have sent him down a deep hole he’d never recover from. But at twenty-four, no longer a teenager, he’d probably wait a few minutes, light up a cigar, have a smoke, and then call 911 and send me away if I recovered, just to get a moment’s rest.

My father stared at me. I’m straight. How did this happen? Why me? 

It was a straight man’s thing, I supposed, to ask those questions and to feel the way he did. And my father, bless his soul, was straight as an arrow. He wanted his son to go hiking, camping, and shooting with him, or just get interested in his business was all that he required from me, and that was too much. How was I going to live up to that shit? I couldn’t. Who could at my age, when there were so many things for a young man to do with his time, like sucking cock, or getting his ass rimmed.

My father had one shot at getting a son who loved that outdoor shit, because I was an only child, and he got that wrong, and now he wanted someone to pay, and it was my turn. 

My mother could handle more than my father. For a mother that was different. Mothers loved their boys the way fathers should, but didn’t when they found out that they were gay and proud of it. 

I think if my father had been born in a different time that he’d probably be more accepting of the idea that men and women didn’t want to be defined as either straight or gay. He was born too early, and I was born too late for him to be the son he needed. That was probably why it was a bridge too far to discover that his only son was gay, and he had no interest in taking over his housing construction business, or going hiking, camping, and all that other shit he had planned for me. 

Look, dad—

No. You look. I’ve spoiled your ass since you were a child. I don’t blame your mother for you being gay. I blame myself. Oh fuck, where was this going? I should have made you go to the army or enroll in college... Oh, that was what this was about, again. He thought if I’d gone to the army or college, then that would have made me see the world the way he did, and he could die in peace, leaving his company to me instead of his brother’s sons.

I spoke to your mother and we’re in agreement now.

Oh, this can’t be good. Since when have they seen eye to eye on anything. This is terrible, I concluded.

"We’ve decided that if you are bent on... maybe I shouldn’t use the word bent. He tightened his jaw and twisted his mouth. If you want us to continue giving you money to supplement your lifestyle of partying and drinking, then you should consider going to college, or the army."

I have this business I’m trying to get off the ground, and if you—

Look, Parker, I’ve heard that before. You were trying to sell socks and you needed to go to Italy. Then you had this idea about tee shirts and sweaters, and you had to go to Greece and Ireland. Good God, Parker, do you know how much of my money you’ve pissed away?

I thought it was my money too, dad. His face turned a crimson red and that was unusual, considering he had the deepest tan I’d ever seen. Working out in the sun, of course, and that was what he wanted for me. I had delicate thin skin like my mother. I couldn’t survive going around to his construction sites in Phoenix and Tucson. Sitting around the pool, yes, but not that. 

Have you ever made a dime with your business? Until you can turn those fanciful ideas into cash, you haven’t made or contributed to anything that makes sense. So, get the fuck out of bed, and send out applications to a college, and with your grades from that prestigious boarding school we sent you to where you spent your time sending out dick pics, and getting kicked out several times. I hope they take you someplace away from Phoenix. And you can forget about me paying money to an Ivy league school on the west coast just to get your ass in there so you can fuck around again. It’s over, Parker.

But dad, I’m twenty-four and I’m not going to fit in.

Your grandmother, God bless her soul, was eighty-five when she graduated from college here in Phoenix.

She died the next year. It must have been all that studying and writing. You know I don’t like to write—

My father glanced down at me and raised a brow. Then at twenty-four you should have it easy, and because you’re a D plus student, you should graduate in maybe twelve years just in time to take over my business. Now get your ass up, and start filling out applications.

Chapter 2

Parker

That was four years ago, and I wanted to prove to my father how wrong he’d been about me by getting my degree at the local college in Tucson. That was the only place that would take me with my grades, a sketchy letter of recommendation my father had gotten his site foreman to write, and my inability to construct a coherent paper.

Finally, I’m on track to graduate if I can pass this elective class. That should have been a breeze, but a friend of mine said that Earth Science was the way to go, since I’d saved the electives for last, and Professor Haden was partial to young men. How Logan knew, I didn’t ask. I just took his word for it, signed up for his class not expecting him to zero in on me the minute I’d strolled into the lecture hall late.

For some reason I was a magnet for older men. I didn’t see what he saw in me, but then I never did see what men saw in me. Professor Haden thought I needed my ass spanked, and perhaps I did years ago, but not by him, because that ship had sailed, and I was the first off the boat. 

I already had a daddy and he didn’t spank. A wealthy one who was married to my mother.  I didn’t even know why I was here with this professor other than I have to pass this boring-ass Earth Science class I should have taken my first year. Who ever heard of a business major taking an Earth Science class, and having to write letters.

If my daddy at home with my mother had put his foot down years ago and not spoiled me shitless, then I wouldn’t be graduating from college at twenty-eight, but at twenty-two maybe. He was too lenient, but I wouldn’t tell him that, especially since I could get anything I wanted lately, since I was on track to graduate.

However, like my sometimes-old-fashioned father, and his outdated expressions he’d whispered when he was angry— "Spare the rod and spoil the child."

Well, I hadn’t spared my rod. I’d been using it every chance I got. There was this Flamenco dancer in Seville, and Italy, forget it. I fucked every cute waiter who looked at me, and asked me to take them back to the US. Those tanned Mediterranean asses gave me a rush, and a chill hurtling through me settling in my cock. I needed those mind movies now to help me concentrate on Professor Haden’s ass, because it would be his ass that held my future.

Let’s hope it was tight enough to hold my soft cock. 

Trying to concentrate on getting my shaft up to speed, I couldn’t, because of what was running around my headspace.

After I’d graduated from high school I had this idea I’d presented to my parents. If they’d indulged me for a year or two which turned into four years, then I’d go to a college or business school, because, after all, I wanted to become a businessman, and make tons of money. I saw no reason to go to college. Some of the richest men in this country never finished college. My father made his money inventing shit and building houses. I still didn’t know what some of his patents were for. I just knew that he had money, and I didn’t, but as soon as I got some business off the ground, I’ll be rolling in the Benjamins, and Professor Haden would be a fond memory I didn’t want to revisit anytime soon.

I glanced over at my Earth Science professor, what was his name? Oh yeah, Professor Haden, and he was talking to me, interrupting my thoughts, because I had to turn in an assignment tomorrow to him, and I was stuck, now that was an appropriate word. Yes, I was stuck having to fuck my way through college, all because I’d waited until I was almost thirty to get serious about anything except my dick. 

I was too old for this shit. In any case I really wasn’t into this tonight, especially since I had finals to take for graduation, and maybe get a position somewhere, anywhere, except at my father’s construction company.

I’d even considered teaching. The question was, whether teaching would consider me. 

I had this notion to teach at a junior college, however, that wasn’t paying shit and the college wanted Ph.D.’s, which would cost me my life, and I wasn’t college material anyway.

When I confessed to my mother that there was a possibility that I might not graduate for a year, she said that dad would withhold my funds if I didn’t get some kind of job. So I was here in Professor Haden’s apartment, and getting ready to stick my rod inside his ass for a grade.

I was lucky if I could make it through a Master’s program without fucking every professor who was gay—and some who weren’t—just to pass the classes and make my family proud that I wasn’t that fucked-up gay son who they hadn’t announced to the world yet, but were threatening to do soon with a degree at the end of it. I could hear my father now. This is my son Parker. He’s a college graduate and he’s gay. 

The only one who loved me was my mother. She was the only one preventing my father from disinheriting me. He’d said, It’s not because you’re gay, Parker. You’re just an idiot and you’re lazy, and I’m afraid that when I die you’re going to piss away everything I spent a lifetime building.

What the fuck would he know anyway. He’d be dead, and if you gave someone something, you shouldn’t expect anything for it. That was what I thought until I got an A in this class, and the professor wanted something for his gift. 

Why don’t you get undressed so I can spank your pretty ass, Professor Haden said when I sighed, turned to him with a smile, then toed off my sandals, undressed, and climbed under the sheets, hoping to watch a movie, cuddle for a minute, get a quick orgasm before I got the fuck out of there and back to my apartment, and wrote this damn letter to my adopted veteran Sergeant Anthony Paesano. I thought I’d call him Tony, or Sergeant. He should like that.

I was drawn out of my thoughts once again by Professor Haden. You really aren’t into this tonight. How about we dispense with the spankings, and you go right into warming me up. You know a man my age needs a little foreplay.

I knew he wasn’t as old as he’d pretended to be, but if that got him off quick, then far be it for me to interrupt his fantasies. I really didn’t know how old he was, because I hadn’t seen a dick that hard since I was in high school, when all the boys showered in a common shower.

The professor was extremely fit for a man in his early forties and he had all his hair and a nice full mouth of teeth. I would have found him attractive if I didn’t think he was more than ten years my senior, because I wasn’t into older men, at least not that old, and besides, he was known on campus as loose. He had more boyfriends than a gay rock and roll band. I liked loose men, but not one I’d want to fall in love with. I was hoping one day that I’d find my own man, and we’d get married and live off of my father’s money.

Maybe we’d lie around the pool all day and fuck all night, then move where it was cool, maybe Flagstaff where my parents had a cabin. They never went there anyway. However, I hadn’t met anyone I’d like to spend my time fucking all day, and then had to stare into their face all night.

I hadn’t been to the home where I grew up, in Phoenix, for four years. I promised my mother that once I graduated, I’d go home. By now they’d turned my room into a sanctuary for their dogs. I liked that room, because it opened into a courtyard, and the pool was right outside. I could avoid my father. I did okay for a while, I guess, but like everything I did, I took it too far, and that was why I was in Tucson trying to get an A from Professor Haden. 

Professor Haden wasn’t hard to look at, and he wasn’t hard to fuck. He knew I was a top, and that was why he took me under his wing as they’d say, or some would say that I was the teacher’s pet. Well, my friend Logan said that I was, and I had to agree, but I never told him the price I had to pay to be a pet.

I watched as Haden placed his hands down his jockstrap, stroked his cock with his legs open and then turned, and lay on his stomach. My heart wasn’t in it tonight. He was great looking with a hard ass and body, but I’d grown tired feeling like a piece of meat.

I glanced down closed my eyes, gave my cock a quick pull, placed the condom over it and sucked in a hard breath. When I’d squeezed enough lube out on Haden’s hole, he craned his head around as I was getting ready to make my entrance.

Hold up, Parker, I’m not a virgin. You’re putting too much lube on me. I want to feel you. He didn’t have to tell me that. That was the first thing I found out. My cock was a normal size for a man, but Haden needed a giant with a cock the size of an elephant’s to get an orgasm, and that was why he wanted me to spank him first, and I didn’t have time, nor did I have the inclination to pull this off tonight. I just wanted to get this the fuck over so I could finish this letter I’d started days ago, and couldn’t quite finish it to turn it in to Haden. 

I wondered where Professor Haden had got this fucking idea to write letters to wounded soldiers. It wasn’t like we were in grade school, I started to ask him as he was face down waiting for me to either smack his round hard ass and fuck him, however, I thought better of it, lined my cock’s head against his slick hole, and drove deep as hard as I could. I couldn’t concentrate, because of all I had on my mind. Here I was thinking about what to write to my soldier, and how to get an orgasm at the same time. 

Did you hear me, Parker? I heard him, but I had more on my mind than abusing his ass tonight.

With my soft cock stuck in a slick hole and not getting much traction, I leaned over Haden, trailed a finger down his spine and watched his skin crawl with goosebumps before I whispered into his ear. Why don’t we order a pizza, watch a movie, because I have a lot on my mind. I have to write out this assignment—

But don’t you want to pass my class, he said, craning his head to the left once more, his tongue swiping around his mouth, his hand reaching inside his jockstrap fisting his cock, his body writhing and making me hot.

My mind must have emptied, because my cock was now rock hard, and what the fuck. I thought it was easier just to fuck him than argue. I drilled deep, and with all the fisting of his cock he was doing, it didn’t take but a second, and he was moaning and groaning with pleasure, and cum had soiled his hand and the sheets.

It took a little longer for me to get the picture out of my head about writing that letter to that wounded soldier, Sergeant Tony Paesano, because I wondered where he’d been wounded. Was it in his leg? That’s not too bad, I rationalized. His face? That would have been a bummer if he’d been a handsome man, and now he had to be like the ninety percent of us. Average.

I should like to include myself in that average category.

It was a good thing my parents had money, and I would soon, if I ever took the time to get my business off the ground, or gave in and took an interest in my father’s company. I knew he’d like that, but that would kill me. But after thinking about it for a while, I thought that wouldn’t be so bad. I’d get a chance to see some of those fine construction hunks in their jeans and get a peek at their tight hard asses.

All these things were floating around my headspace when I finally shot my load.

Chapter 3

Tony

S ergeant. Sergeant . Wake up. I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, and I scowled and grunted. The pain was excruciating, and I didn’t want to wake from my dream only to see a male nurse standing over me, staring down with a needle. What’s happened to all the female nurses? I wondered. 

If I had to be in the hospital and the first person I had to see, I’d prefer it to be a woman. I hadn’t had contact with a woman in over a year. I didn’t know how I did it. My last tour I couldn’t wait to get home, only to be confronted with the truth—my wife and I had grown apart. Not even my dog recognized me. I wished she’d told me then, and not waited until I was back in Afghanistan to send me a text. A text I’d committed to memory because I’d never forget it.

Serina: Anthony, I can’t do this anymore. 

Tony: What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?

I knew it was coming, but I didn’t want to believe that I’d sacrificed everything to be over here, and the money from these tours in this no man’s land had paid for a home for her. I didn’t need a home. We had a perfect apartment where the rent was low, but she said that it wasn’t safe. I guess a man could live anywhere, but a woman couldn’t.

Being a soldier was a testament to how men could live. Some of the women here were as tough as we were, but a woman like Serina was delicate. At least that was how I pictured her and wanted to believe. That was why I tried to give her the things she thought she needed. I could have come home after two tours, but I wanted the money. I could have taken the fireman’s exam and gone through the rigors of being a firefighter like my brothers, but starting out the pay was too low to afford the lifestyle Serina thought she needed. 

Serina: I’m leaving you Anthony. I just fell out of love with you. It finally came to an end. You know how some things have a shelf life. We were childhood sweethearts and never been apart until lately. I never knew another man but you, until—

She paused, but I knew what she wanted to say. She didn’t have to spell it out, or write it for me to obsess over it when I looked at her texts, and tried to decipher every word, wondering if she meant what she’d said.

Tony: So, what are you saying?

She hesitated again, before she sent the next text. Maybe she was wondering how to say what I knew was coming. I hoped she’d spare me the pain, but it was like anything else in life, no one could spare you the pain of a broken heart. It reached deep down in your soul and body, and ripped you apart like the shrapnel that the doctors pulled out of my body. The only problem was that a body wound would heal, but a blow to the heart could be everlasting.

Serina: I met someone, and I want to make a clean break with you. It’s over Tony.

Tony: Don’t call me Tony. That’s for a woman who loved me once. And for the ones who will love me in the future.

I wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt me. If I’d been able to look into her face, I would have been able to gauge if my words had hit the mark, but since she was the one dishing out the pain through her words by way of text, I concluded that my words had little if no effect on her.   

I couldn’t believe this was happening, and when I felt a tear, I knew it was from the medication. I didn’t want to think that it had come from me. But I was hurt and I felt abandoned. What was I going to do? I’d met and married Serina after high school, worked a few jobs in construction, and at the time made good money, but not enough to pay for a home, but enough to keep her comfortable. They were offering a bonus if I joined up, and I thought that was a great way to get extra cash, and purchase the home Serina dreamed about with me when we lay under the stars in my old Chevy pickup truck on a desert road outside of Tucson.

Serina: I’m selling the home Anthony and with the proceeds, we’ll split it.

Anthony: I don’t want it. I bought the home for you.

Serina: It’s only right that you get something—

And then there were no letters, no texts, or emails, and I stood there in the desert on a cold night, looking at my phone as if I thought it would disappear, and this wasn’t happening to me, but was only a nightmare I’d found myself locked into.

You are Sergeant Anthony Paesano? the baritone voice cut through my thoughts. 

Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. I blinked to see him clearly. The nurse was average height with thinning red hair cut short, like mine in a buzz cut, only my hair is thick, dark, and coarse when it grew out. It was a haircut of the kind most soldiers who came from the war zones wore. 

The doctor didn’t say you had a hearing problem. I glanced up at him and furrowed my brow.

No. I can hear very well. It’s just that I may have problems peeing. I have a groin injury and something is wrong with my leg.

The doctors will be in later to talk to you. Peeing isn’t a problem now. I’ll help you and you can urinate in this urinal. Or I can put a catheter on you. Which will it be?

Can’t I just go to the toilet?

That’s impossible now. Maybe after therapy and the doctors give you an all clear to stand on that leg, then we’ll see, but for now, use this. We took the catheter off because it can cause infection, or would be too painful if it remained on too long. I took the urinal, lifted my hips and placed it under my ass. 

I can’t with a man watching me. It’s not like you’re one of my soldiers, you’re a—

Male nurse, he added. 

No. A stranger.

I’ll close these curtains and if you need my help then call out. But first, let me give you your medication, so you won’t feel the pain when you move around.

Normally, I would wait until the nurse came to give me my meds, and even if I was in pain I wouldn’t ring for anything, or I’d tell them I’d wait until the next shot. I’d heard all the horror stories of soldiers being addicted, and I didn’t want that. 

Before you go, would you bring my letters over to me, and my sketch pad. I’d like to read my letters. The nurse did as I requested, and I thumbed through some of the recent letters. They were from the same woman. I wished they’d been from my wife. But, fuck it, if she could go on with her life, I didn’t see why I couldn’t. I opened one of the first letters I’d received. I’d been holding it, staring at it. I read it after the nurse left the ward.

Dear Sergeant, 

Thank you for your service. I know you’re wondering why this stranger is writing you. I’m connected with Soldiers’ Angels, and guess what, you’re it. You’re my adopted soldier.

First let me introduce myself. My name is Holly, and I don’t have any hobbies just yet, because I’m too young, only twenty-eight. The only thing I would consider to be a hobby is going out on a Saturday night dancing and drinking. That I can do well.

Would you like to go dancing and have a beer sometime?

I live in Arizona where it’s hot as hell, and the dust swoops up when you least expect it, but you already know that, because you’re from there too. I’m here in Tucson and that’s one of the reasons why I chose you. We’re both Arizonians.

If there’s anything that I can do for you or your family, please let me know. I’ve sent you a care package, and some stamps and envelopes where you can write me if you choose to. Or send an email. No pressure. I don’t do Facebook or Facetime because I have classes. My last year. I’m usually hung over from celebrating that I will be graduating and getting a job soon. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, but I’m a late bloomer when it comes to college.

If you don’t mind, can I continue to write you?

Stay safe, Sergeant.

Holly

Just as I finished reading the letter a middle-aged doctor entered the room with a smile. Sergeant Paesano, I hope you’re feeling well.

That’s for you to tell me, doctor. How am I? Will I live?

You will live. I waited for the but, and I didn’t have to wait very long. But you will have problems.

Is it my groin. Will I be able to pee without a bag, and have children?

He glanced down at me with a dry smile, and said, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to urinate. Oh yes, and have children. Both are important. The new equipment given out to the soldiers protected your groin area, but the sacrifice was with your leg. You will need lots of physical therapy, and if you don’t get your therapy once you’ve left Brooks Army Medical, we may have to operate on you again so you can move that leg properly. Now you don’t want that do you? Fuck no. What did he want me to say?

Of course not. Who says they want to go through more surgeries? I’ll do what’s necessary.

Do you have anyone who can help you? I told Serina that I was coming home hoping she would remind my brothers, Noah and Lucas. I wrote them before my last mission and asked that someone tell Alonzo, and get his address, because he’d moved into his new house, and I wanted to hear from him, but I never heard anything from any of them.

Everyone had families, I understood, and I didn’t want to burden them with my troubles. I glanced up to see the doctor waiting for a reply. No. I’ve got no one. 

We have facilities in San Antonio which could get you closer to your home, but you’ll have to stay here for a few more months so you can take care of yourself. When we discharge you, you won’t need a nurse, or have to go to a home for rehabilitation. You’ll be able to do everything on your own.

I can’t stay here. I have to go home. I thought if I got back home, then everything would be okay. Maybe there